


Step Into My Parlor

by smiles2go



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Amnesia, Betrayal, Captivity, Emotional Manipulation, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smiles2go/pseuds/smiles2go
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master set the final trap for the Doctor. Only when he springs it, the Doctor’s mind is injured (he’d calibrated the transverse sound wave gun higher than it needed to be, just in case and shot him twice) The Doctor wakes with no memory of who or what he is.  Alarmed at first, the Master eventually realizes this is even better.  Now he has time to play (torture) his nemesis before locking his mind away in his new quarters. (pocket watch)  He takes the Doctor home (his specially modified TARDIS) and tells him they’ve been friends since childhood—cousins in fact, and have shared a cottage in the country for a few years.  Let the games begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Disclaimer: I don’t own it. I just like to take the puppets out and make them dance.
> 
> The Master doesn't want forgiveness or molly-coddling. He wants to WIN and he takes any opporturnity to make that happen.

~~*~~

He’d chosen and discarded weapon after weapon. He needed the perfect one, one that would disable, incapacitate the Doctor long enough to get him secured, but leaving him completely unharmed and in full possession of his faculties. Whatever he chose couldn’t have any backlash that might hurt the Master in case he had to get very close before setting it off. Finally settling on a sound wave generator, he went about designing a small pistol, with red-dyed ivory grips to focus the waves in a tight beam. Very Victorian, fitting in well with the set he’d chosen for his little play.

The sound wave would be above the level humans or even Time Lords could hear and it would only take a very short burst. The Doctor would grab his head, sink to his knees, screaming soundlessly and then fall unconscious whereupon the Master would scoop him up and back to his TARDIS they would go. Perhaps a few convulsions to soften him up a little. He pictured it over and over in his mind, down the exact level of gloat he would allow to show in his eyes when the Doctor first saw him. It was so delicious, the Master had to take a short vacation to slaughter a planet-full of eel-dragons, hunting them through their steamy jungles until his excitement was under control. He hadn’t realized their green blood would stain his skin and he was forced to take a spa retreat soaking in many salt-baths just to look normal. Green tinted skin had made his hair look … off.

~~*~~

 

Striking a pose in front of the gilded full-length mirror, the Master caressed the elaborately engraved, silver pocket watch case and shivered in delight. The dove grey suit and embroidered waistcoat had been designed to showcase the watch with its braided silver chain and he preened just a little. _Soon Doctor._ Biting his lip to hold back the giggle that threatened to break free, he lifted the watch and pressed a kiss against the engraving. _So very soon you’ll be inside and…_ the giggle broke free and his fist closed around the watch, knuckles white. “I’ll take you with me everywhere. We’ll never be separated again. You’ll be _my_ faithful companion.” He whispered before packing the watch carefully back in the box and patting the top fondly before tucking it away in a drawer. He had plans to make.

The Plan had taken weeks to work out every little detail and any contingencies. Equipment had been designed and built, complicated programs written and uploaded into his specially modified TARDIS. Extensive shopping trips carried out to furnish the additional rooms. The trap had yet to be built and Bait acquired.  


~~*~~

Finally it was time for the Bait. Or rather bait for the Bait. Couldn’t make it too obvious just who was behind it all. A few lies and some carefully planted evidence and Mickey, current significant other to one Martha Jones—one of the Doctor’s pets, found himself locked up in a nice dark hole in the ground currently known as Torchwood. He’d made sure the Freak was unavailable for the near future, Harkness had always been unpredictable. 

When the lovely Miss Jones, ie Bait, came to rescue her inamorato, it was a matter of child’s play to grab her and transport off that benighted rock and onto the little moon he’d made over to look like a small Jadoon holding cell. He let her ‘escape’ several times to send frantic messages for help. It took the Doctor almost a month to find her and by then the Master was ready to kill her himself and find a different Bait—one that didn’t require attendance every day and didn’t shriek so loud. 

He hadn’t made the maze too simple, but the Doctor managed it easily and it was only in when he teleported into the room that the Doctor realized the Master was behind it all. The Doctor had just slung his coat over the Bait and began undoing all those lovely chains, when he sensed another Time Lord. The Master could see it in the lines of the Doctor’s back as he jerked upright, letting his head fall back slightly to stare at the ceiling. The Doctor shook his head, but didn’t move.

“I believe this is checkmate, Doctor.” Unable to keep the glee out of his voice, the Master pulled out the little red-handled pistol and aimed it at the Doctor’s back. “I win.”

“I might have known.” The Doctor bowed his head and started to turn around. 

“Ah ah ah.” The Master admonished. “I like the view just the way it is.” He took a few steps closer, the tighter the beam the better. He couldn’t miss, but he’d calculated very carefully and the Doctor must receive the full burst to be rendered incapacitated long enough to get him installed in his new home.

“So you’re just going to shoot me in the back?” The Doctor asked incredulously and shook his head. “I’ve known you all your life and still I can’t believe you’re capable of this.” He gave a little snort and went on. “Checkmate? You know, you’re stone cold brilliant, I’ll give you that, but not at everything. If you remember, I usually won when we played chess. You get stuck in the logic and can’t adjust for the unknown. Don’t call checkmate just yet.”

“What?” The gun wavered. “That’s not true! Besides…” The Master seethed and the barrel leveled, right to the back of his lying head. “…you cheated. That was a long, long, long time ago, I always win in the end and this is the end.” 

“Let her go and I’ll come with you peacefully.” The Doctor offered. The Bait gave a muffled scream and drummed her heels. The Doctor turned his head to look at her face and glanced down. The Master figured he was trying to give her a clue or something because she stilled and blinked up at him trying to shake her head. The Doctor leaned over her and the Master thought he was going to kiss her forehead, but he merely bowed his head with a heavy sigh while unbuckling her right hand. He rolled his eyes and pretended not to see. He didn’t care about the Bait anymore. He had his prize. “There’s no need for violence.”

“Oh I really am sorry... _peaceful_ just doesn’t do it for me.” The Master snickered and walked closer. “Say goodbye Doctor.”

“Don’t do this.” The Doctor said in a low voice. “You’ll regret it, I promise you.”

“I’ll feel many things…” The Master stroked the Doctor’s hair with the barrel. “… but I’m afraid ‘regret’ won’t be one of them.” Without another word the Master pulled the trigger and laughed again. Nothing happened. With a frown he shook the gun and as he went to shoot a second time, the Doctor started to turn, knees buckling, agony in his eyes and the Master fired again, just to be sure. He thought maybe he should’ve added a timer or something just so he’d know it worked.

Screaming through clenched teeth, the Doctor stumbled sideways reaching out for the gun, the Master, or something, but the Master jumped back and the Doctor’s eyes rolled back in his head and he crashed to the floor in an undignified heap. The Master held the pistol on him for a minute or so and when the Doctor didn’t move, he stuffed it back in his coat pocket. The Bait was screaming again, thank goodness the gag muffled it.

After dancing a little jig around the Doctor, the Master pulled back his sleeve to reset the teleport. Crouching down beside him, he pulled and tugged and dragged until the Doctor’s body was almost in his arms and with another gleeful cackle, he activated the wrist control without a backward glance. Everything was going perfectly as planned. 

~~*~~


	2. Chapter 2

~~*~~

The Master tucked the Doctor into his new bed and sat down and waited. And waited. Finally, bored out of his mind he went to do another walk through of the newly created Victorian cottage add-on to his TARDIS. 

~~*~~

The lane wasn’t paved and ended abruptly a few hundred feet around the bend. The brick walkway started at the mailbox – the hidden control panel and teleport mechanism. The cottage was whitewashed stone and very picturesque if he did say so himself. The front door had two tiny windows at the top and a large brass knocker in the middle.

Walking inside there was first a very small entryway with a coat stand on one side and a narrow table with a glided mirror above. From there it was a short step into the parlor—his masterpiece.

The parlor was a riot of colors and patterns, furniture and knickknacks crowded together in chaos. It had taken months to collect all this junk and fit together so it seemed a cohesive whole yet managed to swamp the senses before a clean breath could be taken.

There were so many colors and patterns, the eye darted about unable to find something to rest on. Green and blue velvet flecked flowered wallpaper in a geometric pattern wrapped around the room like Christmas paper. Pictures of strangers hung by different colored ribbon over most of the walls and there was even a Gramophone in one corner. White lacy see-through curtains covered every window, bracketed by thick royal blue velvet drapes.

He was particularly proud of the coffered ceiling. It was painted grey and white around the edges while the center was wallpapered in a yellow flowering vine. 

An expensive tea service was stacked on a large silver tray sitting at the edge of a round wood table inlaid with colored woods in beautiful patterns just waiting for afternoon tea. There was even a tall cake stand with a delicious looking white cake under an etched glass lid.

Two sofas outlined in curled wood, covered in the palest of blue velvet faced each other in front of the most elaborately carved and curlicued fireplace he could find. A small fire burned inside, filling the room with a clean fruity scent. A single tufted armchair in tri-toned leather faced the fire, because the Master decided he wasn’t going to lounge around on blue velvet no matter how soft and cushy it looked. No, he was the Master and would sit in the most comfortable, throne-like chair he could fit in especially if he was going to be stuck here for any length of time.   
Matching high back chairs covered in blue and violet striped damask guarded a small game table in one corner sitting on a deep blue carpet covered in giant pink cabbage roses. A large chess set covered the entire top of the table. He planned to spend a lot of time showing the Doctor who was the Time Lord chess master and who was … not.

He’d traveled far and wide to amass the motley collection of clocks. They ticked and dinged and beeped and whirred constantly, each one a tiny bit off from the next. He smirked at the irony and had spent many pleasurable minutes staring at them, predicting the Doctor’s face when he saw them and exactly how long it would take to drive him insane. It was worth the noise even if it gave him the headache from hell.

Hideous globs of glass masquerading as lamps, bathing everything in sickly pink cast were crowded onto every table. The Master looked around with a pleased smile and decided he’d outdone himself. 

 

Rocking back on his heels, the Master took one last look before turning back to the single bedroom and check on the Doctor. Surely he was conscious by now. Maybe he would tease him a bit before sucking his mind into the pocket watch. He deserved a little fun after all the trouble he’d gone to.

~~*~~

The bedroom was larger than most, it had to be to hold the matching twin beds. He’d thought about giving the Doctor a separate bedroom, but after much consideration, he knew he couldn’t let the Doctor have that much time alone. Besides he wanted to watch (and record) every exciting second so he could refer back to it for centuries to come.

Unable to find matching Victorian styled twin beds with tall decorated posts, he’d had to sketch something out and find someone to build them, necessitating several trips into the past until he was satisfied with the results. He hadn’t eliminated the wood-worker yet in case he needed something else, but he hated leaving loose ends. They always came back to bite you in the ass somehow.

He’d bought dozens of the brightest and outrageous carpets he could find and layered them haphazardly across the floors. They were thick and warm and ugly as sin. Two mismatched tall wardrobes held a selection of clothing. His favored blacks and greys and snowy white shirts with lots of lace. He’d gone a little insane in choosing the Doctor’s clothes, a kaleidoscope of brocade waistcoats, velveteen long coats, warm wool trousers in stripes and plain black with button tops. Dozens of silk cravats in a rainbow of colors hung from inside the door, almost obscuring the full-length mirror. 

The Doctor would look every inch the peacock.  
~~*~~


	3. Chapter 3

~~*~~

When he stepped back into the bedroom, the Doctor was sitting up in bed, white linen sheet pooled in his lap. He held one hand to his naked chest and the other was scratching the back of his head. He turned at the sound of the Master’s snicker and gave him an uncertain smile.

“Um. Hello.”

“Hello.” The Master’s grin started to falter, there was something wrong. The Doctor’s eyes were entirely blank. What could have gone wrong already? “How are you feeling?

 

“Well…” The Doctor looked down at his lap and dropped both hands to clutch together tightly. “I don’t seem to be in any pain, but…” He lifted his head and looked around curiously.

“But?” The Master prodded, taking a few steps into the room. “What seems to be the problem?

“You seem to have the advantage.” The Doctor replied lifting his eyes to search the Master’s face. “Who are you? Where am I? And … _who_ am I?” His shoulder lifted in an apologetic shrug and he chewed his bottom lip. .

“What?” The Master asked darkly, his face twisted into a frown. If he was acting, it was superb, the Master thought grudgingly. This was not in the Plan. How could he possibly torture the Doctor if he didn’t know he was the Doctor! “You are… well you are…” _Stop. Stop and think. This could work even better._ The Master shoved his hands in his pockets and paced around the small room. “…Um… well…”

“What’s my name?” The Doctor tried and failed to look confident. It seemed to the Master he might be ready to cry and so he waited a moment just in case. The Doctor pulled himself together with a deep breath and kept his eyes on the Master.

“Your name is Theta.” A blinking frown. Hmmmm. “And my name is Koschei.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” The Doctor laughed abruptly. “No mother would give their children such comical names. You’re pulling my leg.” He laughed again, but this time it was nervously, fingers picking at the sheet. “You are pulling my leg aren’t you?”

“What? No.” It was the Master’s turn to be astounded. He didn’t know what to say, this wasn’t in the Plan. “Those really are our names.” The Master stopped in surprise and glared at the Doctor. That’s what he got for telling the truth. Fine. _Fine._ Wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Hmmm.” Was all the Doctor offered, looking around. “So. Are we sharing this bedroom then? Are we brothers or … or … why am I here? What happened? Why can’t I remember anything?”

The Master considered and discarded lie after lie. “We do live here together.” He started cautiously to see how much the Doctor would take. “In fact, we’re… cousins. Yes cousins. Our mothers were sisters you know.” He went on much more confidently. “You fell this morning, in the creek…and hit your head on … on something. Probably a rock or...” He smiled widely thrusting away the thought he was going to have to add a creek. “…Or something.”

“Cousins?” The Doctor repeated consideringly while looking around the room. “Okay then. Cuz. Okay then why did I fall in a creek?” The Doctor felt around his head with both hands and frowned when he felt no lump. “What did I hit my head on? What did you do with my wet clothes and I suppose you’re the one that undressed me.”

“First of all I have no idea what you hit your head on, I just assumed it was a rock since you were lying there all wet and unconscious in the water.” The Master forced a laugh. “There is no one else here so I guess you can figure out who undressed you.” Undressing the Doctor and disposing of his clothes had been creepy enough. He didn’t need to see the Doctor’s naked self again. His eyes drifted to a dresser where he’d dumped the items in the Doctor’s pockets. Nothing he was expecting. No sonic screwdriver, no alien tech, just an old, worn gold pocket watch that he’d smirked at. Nothing like the elegant one in his pocket that held so much promise and would soon hold a Time Lord’s mind. A half-chewed pencil and four marbles of different colors. The marbles puzzled him and he’d spent some time testing them to see if they weren’t something else entirely. A small notebook of psychic paper, that would come in handy and he’d tucked that away for himself. 

“What did the doctor say?” Scooting to the edge of the bed, the Doctor swung his legs over, careful to keep himself covered by the sheet. “You did send for a doctor correct? Why are you looking at me like that? Do we live in the wilds of nowhere, where there isn’t even a local doctor?” 

“What?” Really, all these questions were very annoying. “What are you talking about?” 

“You say you found me unconscious, with no idea what caused it and you didn’t send for a doctor?” The Master fought a grin at the Doctor’s bugged out eyes and impatience. He looked like he was about to get up and stomp around, wrapped only in the sheet. This was starting to be fun. “What kind of cousin are you?”

“The best kind of course. You didn’t need a doctor. There was no injury, you had no lumps on your head and you weren’t bleeding. I brought you home and I’ll take good care of you.” He used his best bland voice. “Of course we live secluded. We don’t like a bunch of nosy neighbors in our business.”

“Exactly what is our business? This arrangement seems very unnatural to me.” The Doctor stood and walked to the window, wrapped up like a mummy. The Master choked back a laugh and squeezed the watch in his pocket. “We seem to be hiding out in the country, without the benefit of neighbors and doctors and what …” The Doctor turned around and regarded the Master stiffly. “… where does our food come from if we are far from a town? Who takes care of the horses? Chops the wood? Draws the water? Have we dispensed with servants as well?” The Doctor took a deep breath and went on. “Are you even my cousin or some stranger who’s kidnapped me for your own nefarious purposes?” Even though he was pleased with the Doctor’s red face and worried eyes, the Master had had enough.

“I think you need to rest.” He grumped, tired of all these questions he had no answers for. “Stop asking so many questions, you’re getting too excited, it’s probably bad for your head. Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of everything.” The Master walked over to the Doctor’s wardrobe and flung the door open wide. Peeking inside, he could see the Doctor’s reflection in the mirror. Stifling a laugh, he waved a hand and asked him to join him in the parlor when he was dressed. 

He left the room hurriedly without making eye contact again. Rushing into the parlor, he changed seats several times before choosing a vantage point leaning against the mantle. He didn’t want to miss a single expression when the Doctor got a load of the decor.

“Cuz?” Somehow the Doctor had managed to put together an outfit that didn’t scream clown and the Master pouted for a moment, but the look on his face erased it completely. “I hope we rented this cottage fully furnished.” The Doctor’s eyes were glazing over by the time he’d glanced around the room once.

“Oh no.” The Master sneered good-naturedly. “We picked out every piece especially.” He smiled proudly. “I let you chose the color scheme.” 

The Doctor’s eyes rested on the Master as the least offending item in the room. “What?” He asked faintly before going to sit in the Master’s leather armchair and crossing his legs. 

“Hey. That’s my chair.” The Master straightened and thought about tossing the Doctor onto the floor.

The Doctor lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the other available seats. The Master glared as the Doctor shook his head dismissively. “So our mothers were sisters?” 

“Yes.” The Master snapped, still pouting over the loss of his chair. He’d stand all day before sinking into one of the other chairs or either sofa. “We grew up on neighboring estates. They even packed off to boarding school together. Theta.” 

The Doctor grimaced and waved a hand at the Master. “Don’t call me that. I may have lost my memory, but I’m positive that’s not my name. If you must call me something, use cousin or Cuz or … anything else.” He’d picked up a book lying on a side table and flipped through it. “What’s my last name?” He asked without looking up.

“Umm uh… Smith.” Surely his voice didn’t sound that nervous. The Master cleared his throat. “… and my last name is Jones.” There that sounded better. He ignored the Doctor’s small headshake and went on. “I could make up a name, if you don’t like the one you were born with.” The Master scrunched his face up in thought. “Hmmm …” Idly tapping fingers on the mantle, his eyes flicked up to the tiny hidden cameras in each corner. This was going to be his crowning glory. Maybe he could sell the data—plenty of people would pay to watch the Doctor in such humiliating circumstances. His eyes narrowed in thought and he forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

“No.” The Doctor answered shortly, tossing the book aside and standing. “I would like to see the kitchen, I’m hungry. Who does the cooking?” He looked around and started for a doorway he hadn’t explored yet.

“But I could make up a great name.” The Master hurried after him. “A much better name than Theta. I’ll even make up one for myself, if it makes you happy.”

“That’s alright.” The Doctor quickly turned around and went back to the parlor, passing the Master. “Bathroom.” He muttered under his breath and chose another hallway. “Ah. Here we are.”

~~*~~


	4. Chapter 4

~~*~~ 

When he got around to adding a kitchen, the Master regretted the whole Victorian theme. He missed refrigerators, freezers, electric appliances, even a damn toaster would be nice. The whole cutting wood for heat and cooking? Not his thing.

The Doctor was leaning over the farmers sink, staring out the side window. “Is that an ice house out there?” He glanced back over his shoulder at the Master. There were some trees not too far away blocking the view.

“Yes.” The Master leaned against the doorway and watched the Doctor search every cupboard. “I wanted to hire a cook, but you were insistent that you enjoyed cooking our meals.” He managed to say with a straight face. “Of course, we have someone who picks up the laundry.” He’d figure out how to explain the TARDIS invisible cleaning and laundry service later. He hadn’t planned on staying here forever. When the Doctor was safely taken care of, he’d move them into the TARDIS proper and begin training his pet. Sliding his hand into his pocket, he half pulled out the pocket watch just to make sure it was still there. Wouldn’t do to misplace it now.

“There’s a small pantry through those doors, where all the dry goods are kept.” The Master pointed and the Doctor obediently trotted over to check it out. He’d programmed his TARDIS to keep the staples stocked and for the first time wondered if the Doctor could indeed cook. Never mind, he’d sneak over to the TARDIS kitchen if he was in danger of starving.

“Oh good.” The Doctor’s voice came from the pantry. “There’s already bread and cheese.” He came back with the items on a tray, along with a knife and a couple of small white china plates. “Put the kettle on and we’ll have some tea to go with this.”

“Kettle?” The Master blurted, squinting around the room. “Tea?”

“Are you positive we’ve lived here together for a few years?” The Doctor asked impatiently, setting the tray down on the counter and picking up the kettle. “I’m impressed we have running water. I thought that was only for the very rich.”

“Well.” The Master rubbed his face. “We’re not exactly poor then, are we.” Tea? He had to drink tea? How … maudlin. “I think there is some good Scotch whisky in the liquor cabinet. How about that instead?” The Master determined to add whisky to his tea if he had to drink anything so insipid.

“Oh no.” The Doctor said distractedly, carrying an armful of wood from the box by the backdoor to the stove to stoke up the fire to heat the kettle to make the tea the Master didn’t want in the first place. “It’s too early for spirits.”

The Master thought he saw a small smile on the Doctor’s face as he turned away, but dismissed it. He would have to program the TARDIS to keep the stove hot all the time and tell the Doctor he was taking care of it. This Victorian lifestyle involved too much work. Maybe it wasn’t too late to shoot the Doctor in the head again and move them to a nice resort planet hotel somewhere across the galaxy—one with all the modern conveniences and room service.

“You slice the bread while I get the tea ready.” The Doctor pointed and the Master gave him a skeptical look. “Come on. I’m not your servant. Cuz.” He smiled guilelessly and filled the kettle.

The Master gave his back a threatening glare and crossed the room. How hard could it be? It’s not like he’d never seen sliced bread before. The first slice was so thin as to be crumbs. He cursed under his breath and looked up at the Doctor grinning at him while removing two cups and saucers from the far cupboard. He growled back down at the bread and tried again. The second slice was two inches think, but it didn’t fall apart so he counted it as good. In the end, the loaf yielded four slices of bread and when the Master looked up in dismay he found the Doctor fussing over the teapot, his back shaking slightly.

When the Doctor snickered, the Master pointedly ignored him and carried the tray into the parlor. “Well alright. You caught me. Our housekeeper… left a few days ago. She’s, um visiting family … um in the city. Far, far away. Too far to go to in one day.” He’d figure out something if they were still here next week. “I thought we could manage for a week or so.”

“Sure we can.” The Doctor was close on his heels. “The water will take a few minutes to boil and then we can have tea. What city would that be? Oh!”

The Master looked up to see what had caused that tone of voice from the Doctor. Oh this would be good.

He’d had to add a little alcove for the organ to fit into. He’d seen it in a little shop in London and he’d known instantly it would fit in perfectly, like a cherry on top. Little cubbyholes and carved bric-a-brac gingerbread embellished almost every square inch. There was even a round smoky mirror where the player could watch himself. Carved angels and demons chased each other around the side and over the top and down again. Built-in candlesticks made reading music at night a breeze. It was the perfect elaborately ornate nightmare. 

It was easier to play once he figured out the whole music to mathematics translation and how to use the pedals. He didn’t feel like learning old-fashioned songs, just fooled around making up his own. He told the Doctor, he had been proficient and waited for the embarrassing fumbling and discordant sounds, but the Doctor tossed back his coattails and after running his fingers lightly down the keyboard, began playing flawlessly. 

He had to wipe the angry grimace from his face and unclench his teeth when the Doctor looked over his shoulder with a grin. “Guess there’s some things you don’t forget.” His voice was full of elation and his eyes fairly sparkled. The Master cast around frantically for something to wipe that light out of his eyes. He hadn’t meant for the Doctor to spend one minute being happy, that was not in the Plan.

“Very nice.” The Master muttered flatly and his eyes landed on the game table. “What about a game of chess. You could use the practice. I’m trying to teach you the basic moves, but…” The Master trailed off and went into the parlor. He heard the Doctor push the bench back and knew he was following him. 

The Doctor blinked in stunned surprise and the Master sighed in pleasure. This was more like it. He had to recognize some of the aliens he’d modeled the chess pieces after. It would nag and pick at his mind, distracting him away from the stupid questions he kept asking.

Chess pieces hand carved with alien faces were setup and ready to begin. Made from ivory and ebony they called to the Doctor, the animal like faces seeming almost familiar. Before he knew it, he was across the room, an ivory queen in his hand. One callused thumb grazed over her catlike face and up to the vaguely religious looking wimple. "I've seen this before. Known someone who’d dressed like this… a costume party?" The Doctor looked up at him, but his eyes were looking inward, tracing a memory.

“Do you remember them?” The Master s voice jolted him and he dropped the Queen on the board knocking over several other pieces. “We found them in a little shop in Venice—on our first trip to Europe.” Reaching out with both hands, the Doctor straightened the pieces and stepped away, his face reddened in embarrassment.

“Sorry.” A smiled raced across his face and was gone. “Still a little clumsy I guess.” The kettle started to boil and the whistle made the Master and Doctor both jumped. “Shall we?” The Master trailed behind the Doctor, stopping by the liquor cabinet to retrieve a bottle of whisky. If he had to drink flavored hot water, it would be whisky flavored water. Chess could wait for another day. They had time. He had time. Torture was so much better when it wasn’t rushed.  
~~*~~


	5. Chapter 5

~~*~~  
“Cuz? Fancy a game of chess?”

The Master looked up from the book he’d been driven to hide in to escape the Doctor’s questions and chewed his bottom lip. On the one hand, the book was the most vapid bit of drivel he’d ever come across, but the Doctor’s endless questions were starting to push his ability to come up with plausible answers.

“Alright.” He closed the book. “That sounds…” The Doctor turned and went to seat himself at the game table, choosing black without waiting for answer. The ever-present cup of tea at his elbow

Dropping the poor excuse for a book on a side-table, the Master straightened his coat, patted his pocket to make sure the pocket watch was safely inside and looked at the one clock he knew was showing the correct time before picking up the cut glass crystal goblet of whiskey. “Looks like we have enough time for one game before supper.” If he’d known how much effort it was going to take to wind all those stupid clocks every day, he’d have installed a battery in each one. But then the Doctor would have noticed and it had seemed instead of driving the Doctor insane, he enjoyed the clocks. He would stop whatever he was doing when they began to chime and beep and chirp and peal and clang and the million other noises they made and smile happily, closing his eyes in pleasure. 

“Which opening are you choosing today?” The Doctor glanced up at him as he made himself comfortable at the table. “The King’s gambit seems to be your favorite.” 

The Master jerked his hand back from the white King’s pawn. He had indeed been starting with his favorite gambit out of habit. It’s not like he really needed to concentrate to beat the Doctor. Not a Doctor without a single memory of chess or Time Lord moves or even of the Master. He quirked his mouth against a full grin and studied the board. “No, of course not. Repetition is the soul of … of … something.” He waved his hand as if words were unimportant and pushed his Rook’s pawn forward.

The Doctor blinked at him and studied the board some more. The Master sighed and wondered if he could retrieve the book to occupy his mind while the Doctor tried to figure out what gambit he was using now. Fact of matter, he was going to use none, he was just going to react to whatever the Doctor did and see how that went. Even if he lost, it would be something different.

By the time the Master had taken more half the Doctor’s pieces and lost only a third of his own, he was ready to cook dinner himself just to relieve the boredom.

“You know.” The Doctor hesitated, hand hovering over the board as if there were a multitude of choices where a knight might go. “While I appreciate your spending time with me here, day in and day out while I recuperate from my fall, it’s really not necessary.”

Finally setting the piece down, the Doctor leaned back in his chair and watched the Master. “I mean, you must have somewhere to go, somewhere to be. You don’t have to be trapped with me in this little cottage.”

The Master choked and tried to turn it into a cough, while searching the Doctor’s eyes. Was it time? Was this it? It had been fun, but he spent most of the time bored to tears and trying to think up something to occupy his mind. He’d even thought about exiting to the TARDIS proper for something interesting to read, but had vetoed that immediately. The Doctor might have no memory, but he wasn’t dumb.

“I…” The Master coughed again. “You need me here to look after you until you get your memory back.” He said it quietly, eyes on the board so the Doctor wouldn’t be able to read anything into it. Had his boredom been leaking through? Probably. It was BORING stuck in this little cottage. Why hadn’t he added more rooms? He couldn’t even go hide in the small kitchen since he’d announced the first day he couldn’t cook and the Doctor had made all their meals. Why hadn’t he created a robot servant… because the Doctor would have figured out it wasn’t human, that’s why.

“Well…” The Doctor mused, glancing up at the Master now and then. “As long as I don’t wander off, I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m actually sick or injured.”

“I…” The Master blustered. The whole point was to watch the Doctor suffer and squirm and if he left… no, he wasn’t ending this game too early. Centuries from now when he had nothing better to do, he’d get out the recording and it would be funny all over again. Maybe he’d even let his pet Doctor watch too. “You’re nowhere near recovered. Your memory loss must be caused by something happening in your brain. I would be remiss to leave you more than an hour or two. Who knows what might happen?”

He gave the Doctor his best languid look and absently pushed a chess piece forward. The Doctor crowed suddenly and swept his Queen off the board. “Something on your mind, Cuz? You don’t seem to be playing at optimal levels today?”

The Master glared down at the board as if his pieces had been moving on their own and at the growing pile of white pieces in front of the Doctor. “Well.” He tried to twist his lips into a smile and failed. “Perhaps I’m just hungry. Shall we abandon this game and have a little supper?”

“What!” The Doctor cried. “You want to quit when I’m finally starting to win? Isn’t that just like you.”

“What do you mean by that?” The Master leaned forward, knocking several of the Doctor’s pieces to the floor. They both leaned to the side to pick them up, their hands bumping together. Out of patience, the Master cursed and tried to stand, knocking the table sideways and dumping the entire game on the floor, board and all. The Master cursed and walked away. He needed something for his blasted headache. Let the Doctor pick up the mess. That’s what he liked to do anyway, clean up after others.

“Throwing a tantrum isn’t very mature behavior, Cuz.” The Doctor called after him, bending to reset the game. “You knew I was going to win and rather than lose to me, you destroyed the game!” 

The Master mumbled something under his breath and knowing the Doctor was staring after him, he turned into the first room he came to and slammed the door. Oh Seven Hells! He’d been reduced to hiding out in the bathroom. This was most surely NOT in the Plan.

“…typical behavior…” He heard before sitting on the edge of the tub and clapping both hands over his ears. It seemed the Doctor’s memory was returning so maybe this farce was almost over. Damn the Plan, he’d shove that pocket watch in the Doctor’s face and be done with it.

~~*~~


	6. Chapter 6

~~*~~  
It soon became their habit to spend the sunny part of the afternoon sitting in the small garden behind the cottage. Two dark green Adirondack chairs faced a large round planting of white roses. A small birdbath sat near the front where the Doctor watched in vain day after day for a single bird. He could hear them singing in the trees, but never caught a glimpse of one. 

They would sit in companionable silence and doze off in the warm sunshine. At first the Master, was edgy, bored, bored, BORED, but soon he started calculating all the worlds and peoples stuck in the mire of their nasty little lives with no Doctor to come and save them and felt much better. He even spared a thought for the Bait and wondered how long it had taken her to die, still wrapped in chains or if she’d managed to escape with one hand free and access to the Doctor’s coat. It didn’t matter either way, no one could get to the Doctor here. No one but him. 

If only the Doctor wouldn’t be so thankful and pleasant, this would be a restful vacation. The Master was aware that each time the Doctor gave him another fervent ‘thank you Cuz’ he managed a stilted ‘you’re welcome’ his voice got a little higher and a little screechier. Sometimes it made him want to claw his own eyes out. Other times he just pretended he was asleep and hadn’t heard.

“Cuz.” The Doctor began late one afternoon and the Master gritted his teeth. _Cuz._ The Doctor had started calling him that a few days ago and it had taken all the Master’s control not to rip his throat out. _Cuz_. Apparently Koschei and Theta were ridiculous names and he refused to call a grown man Koschei. _Well, Doctor, why don’t you call me Master?_ He snickered. “I heard that. Don’t pretend you’re asleep. Cuz?” He heard the Doctor rustling around in his lawn chair, uncomfortable things that they were.

“What?” Annoying was quite plausible in this situation; after all, he _might_ have been asleep. “I’m trying to take a nap.” More rustling and he knew the Doctor was looking at him. He let an annoying sigh slip out, but refused to sit up.

“I just wanted to thank you again for all the—“

”Enough!” The Master rumbled, sinking lower in the chair. Just for that he was going to sleep. “I’ve told you over and over Doctor it’s not—” Realizing what he’d said, the Master clenched his hand on the armrest to keep from clapping it over his mouth in a theatric reaction. Maybe the Doctor hadn’t heard.

“Doctor?” Yes, that was definite interest. Damn the man. “I’m a doctor?”

Rolling his eyes behind closed lids, the Master mumbled a no.

“But you just called me Doctor!” He was definitely sitting up now. These chairs would have to be moved further apart before tomorrow. “I knew there was something missing!” He sounded excited and the Master knew he’d drone on and on about this unless he squashed it now.

“You aren’t a doctor.” He said with quelling finality opening his eyes and looking over at the Doctor. His face was flushed with pleasure and the Master smiled and countless cruel putdowns raced through his mind. “You—” 

“No. No, it feels right.” The Doctor jumped out of the chair and paced around in the small area of grass between the roses and the chairs. “I am. I am a doctor!”

“No, you’re not!” The Master sat up and scooted to the end of the chair. Really these things were quite uncomfortable and impractical. He made a note to find the inventor and kill him slowly. The Doctor gave him a crestfallen look and crouched in front of him, hands fluttering uselessly.

“But it feels so right Cuz.” His eyes swept the Master’s face. “I know it must be true.” He added in such an earnest voice the Master almost gagged. “It is true.” His eyes hardened stubbornly.

“No.” The Master rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Fine. You went to medical school.” The Master grated out.

“I knew it!” The Doctor bounced to his feet and fairly danced around the garden. “I am a doctor!” He said with satisfaction.

“No.” The Master said slowly, head-cocked to one side and eyes narrowed. “No. You left school. You were…”

“What? I was what?” The Doctor rounded on him, hands flinging in the air. “Speak up man!”

“You were expelled for cheating!” The Master didn’t bother to fight the grin that spread his mouth open wide. “I didn’t want to tell you, but you forced me to.”

“NO.” The Doctor shook his head in denial. “I didn’t cheat. I would never cheat.” He stopped in front of the Master and stared at him with narrowed eyes. “No. Cheating sounds like something you would do.”

Not liking the way the Doctor was looming over him, the Master stood and jerked his coat down, smoothing the lace with furious hands. “I…” He lifted his chin, abhorring the fact that he was slightly shorter than the Doctor in this regeneration. “I do not need to _cheat.”_

They glared at each other for seconds when the Doctor burst out in laughter. The Master blinked and shoved his hands in his pockets to touch the pocket watch and remember the endgame. It always calmed him and brought him back to the Plan.

The Doctor got control of himself and grinned at the Master. “You know, I don’t think we’re even cousins.”

“What?” The Master asked in confusion wondering how they’d got back to that topic. “What are you blathering about?”

“No. We’re not cousins. I am a doctor and you’re lying through your teeth.” It was said with a smile and the Master couldn’t interpret the expression in his eyes.

“What?” He asked again to stall for time. What was the Doctor playing at. Had his memories come back? Was playtime over and he should get out the pocket watch and move on to Phase II?

“I think you’re having fun at my expense.” The Doctor started pacing again. “I think you’re telling me the most outrageous lies you can come up with to see how much I will swallow.”

The Master frowned and started to defend himself, but the Doctor talked right over top him. 

“I think…” the Doctor stopped in front of the Master and looked him square in the face. “I think we are definitively _not_ cousins. I do feel drawn to you, however so we must be something closer.” The Doctor’s eyes narrowed and the Master’s flew wide open in shock.  


““What…” He barely mumbled, his mouth didn’t seem to be working. 

“I think…” The Doctor grinned. “I think we are much closer than cousins. I think we might be lovers.”

“What!” The Master fairly shrieked in a falsetto voice. “What… what gave you… No! Just… no.” Jerking his hands out of his pockets, he waved them at the Doctor like a magician casting a spell.

“Yes.” The Doctor nodded and took a step closer. “Come here. Let me kiss you once or twice and we'll find out if I’m right. Or not.” The Doctor reached out to grab the Master’s arm, but the Master stumbled backwards in a horrified attempt to escape, tripping over the useless Adirondack lawn chair and was flailing at the air, panic evident in his eyes. 

“No! No! We’re not… we’re NOT lovers! The Master was in a frenzy trying not to fall on his ass and keep out of the Doctor’s reach at the same time. “Us? Together? That’s… that’s just … _disgusting!_ No you _cannot_ kiss me!” He screamed slapping at the Doctor’s hands, not realizing he was only trying to grab him before he fell. Finally catching his balance, the Master ran headlong through the open back door through the house and out the front door, leaving it swinging open behind him, barely registering the Doctor’s amused laughter behind him.

~~*~~


	7. Chapter 7

~~*~~

 

“It never rains.” The Master looked away from his lemon custard, spoon still in his mouth and hummed a query. The Doctor had taken one bite and was staring out the window. “I said it never rains here. It’s never grey or cloudy. There are no birds, no bees in the roses… and weeds. I’ve never seen you cut the grass or pick a weed.” His eyes narrowed dangerously and his face was studiously blank.

The Master discarded response after response. “You’re imagining things.” He looked back down at the book beside his bowl and didn’t see a single word. Surreptitiously, the Master slid one hand down to press against his pocket. With a sigh of relief he turned a page. “Of course it rains, of course the grass and the weeds grow. The birds sing and the bees… the bees…” The Master waved a hand vaguely. “… the bees do whatever it is bees do.”

“If it’s all in my head, I think I want to see a doctor.” The Doctor snapped. “The housekeeper hasn’t come back from the city like you promised. I want to visit this city. You said she took the horse and buggy but there isn’t even a barn to put them in.” He pointed one long finger at the Master. “You’ve lied and lied and lied. Something is wrong here and I want an explanation.” He lifted his chin in defiance and the Master looked up with a sigh. 

“You want an explanation?” He said mildly, getting to his feet and crossing the room to stand facing the Doctor’s fierce gaze.

“Yes.” The Doctor met his eyes fearlessly, demanding answers right now. “I want the truth.”

The Master nodded and pressed his lips together. “Here’s your answer.” Pulling the little pistol from his other pocket, the Master pulled the trigger and waved the barrel at the Doctor. He didn’t want more brain loss, this had been fun, but it was tiresome. He just wanted on peaceful evening without the endless questions. 

The Doctor slumped to the floor without a sound. With a thick grunt, the Master heaved him up on the sofa and slapped his cheek lightly. With a pleased smile, the Master headed for the front door. He would spend a quiet evening in his TARDIS, drink some fine wine and maybe have a bit of caviar. As the door closed softly behind him, he added jelly babies to the list of things to bring back. Maybe more lemon custard. He wasn’t sure if he loved it for the way it tasted or if it was the way the Doctor’s face puckered up when he took the first bite. 

 

~~*~~

 

“So…” the Doctor trailed off staring at the chess board. It was his turn and the Master thought he lingered so long over each move just to drive him batty. It’s not like he was going to win or anything.  
“What?” The Master slowly looked up to focus on his face him and rolled his memory back over their earlier conversation. The weather. They’d been talking about the weather.

“Your pocket watch.” The Doctor wiggled his fingers toward the watch. The Master realized the thing was in his hand again and he was tracing his thumb across the front absently and let it slide back into his pocket. “You…um…”

“I what?” The Master asked stiffly, watching the Doctor’s face avidly. Had he remembered? Had he guessed what was coming? “What?”

“I don’t mean to pry, but you have a habit of playing with it.” He cleared his throat. “Yet, I’ve never seen you open it to check the time. I assume it belonged to someone special.” The Doctor tipped his head to the side and leaned back against the cushions.

The Master snorted. “Actually, no.” Making an effort to control his expression, he went on. “It was meant to be a gift to an old… friend.” The Master fought hard to keep the eagerness and anticipation—any swell of emotion out of his voice. It was getting harder and harder to accomplish and sometimes the Master just had to get away from _his_ voice, _his_ expressions, _his_ eyes, _his_ presence. There were times when he rose early and went to sit in the garden staring at nothing and contemplating the reasons why the Doctor didn’t seem to be able to sense him when he didn’t have a second’s peace from knowing the Doctor was close, too close.

“I see.” The Doctor said thoughtfully and taking his glasses out began to polish the lenses with the end of his cravat. It was one of the red ones with a fancy name that made the Master’s eyes bleed if he stared at it too long. He hadn’t really considered when he’d arranged the Doctor’s clownish wardrobe that _he_ would be the one looking at it the most. “Who?”

“What? I mean… what?” The Master snapped back from his musing and stuck his hand back in his pocket to make sure the watch was safe.

“Well you said we were childhood friends, Cuz and since we’ve shared living space for years… I must assume that I know this ‘old friend’.” Casually crossing his legs, the Doctor turned a bland face to the Master’s discomfort.

The Master actually sputtered for a second before he got himself under control. Thoughts racing around in circles, he nodded. “Okay fine, it was meant for your birthday present.” He spit. Well time was up, he’d had enjoyed baiting and teasing the Doctor and really had more fun times planned, but once the Doctor opened the pocket watch, all his Time Lordyness would be sucked inside and he’d be left with just the plain mortal he’d been planning to keep as a pet.

“Oh.” The Doctor gave him a pleased smile and put his glasses on. “Exactly when is my birthday then? I don’t think you mentioned that.” The Doctor uncrossed his legs and leaned forward eagerly.

“Um…” The Master squinted up .his eyes in concentration. It was hard to translate Gallifareyan time to earth time. It never once occurred to him to just make up a date. “June 1st.” He grinned, pleased with himself. Not so hard after all.

“But that’s months away.” The Doctor protested with a glance out the window. “Why don’t you just give it to me now?” The Doctor lifted his eyebrows at the Master’s dawdling. “Come on then, I won’t expect another present on the actual date.” He held out his hand and the Master stared at it in confusion. 

His fingers tightened around the pocket watch and he pulled it slowly from his trousers, unclipping the chain and letting it settle in his palm staring down at it a moment. Now that the time had come, he was strangely hesitant. Reluctantly, he held his palm out and the Doctor plucked it out of his hand and leaned back to examine it.

_Goodbye Doctor._ The Master shook off his strange mood and sudden shortness of breath. He was just excited, he told himself. He’d barely dreamed this day would come. _The Doctor was his. Theta was his._

“Hmmmmm.” The Doctor flipped it over to study the engraving on the back. His eyes flicked up to the Master and back down at the watch. The Master had a moment of panic when he thought the Doctor might actually be able to translate the Gallifreyan script. _Stop acting nervous, he’s going to figure out something’s up._

Taking a deep breath, the Master held it while the Doctor’s fingers played with the catch. _Open it! Open it now!_ He encouraged silently.

~~*~~


	8. Chapter 8

~~*~~

In slow motion, the Doctor flicked the latch, pulled his eyes from the Master and down to the watch. With a soft sigh the Master closed his eyes. A second later he frowned. Surely there was some kind of noise? He should have at least heard a thud when the Doctor collapsed on the floor. Opening one eye he caught the Doctor’s amused gaze. Nothing had happened. He was still sitting there with the open pocket watch.

Flabbergasted he opened his other eye and looked from the Doctor to the watch and back again. He’d been so sure. The first one he’d made had worked perfectly. He’d been Professor Yano for years and years without a clue. What had he done wrong? 

His eyes slid to the side as he started to rehash everything, searching for his mistake. It wasn’t too late to repair the watch and try again. The little pistol was in his pocket, he could zap the Doctor and try again. The snick of the cover closing snapped his eyes back to the Doctor.

“Were you afraid I wouldn’t like it?” The Doctor asked sounding way too casual for the Master. “Why did you close your eyes? Why have you been carrying around a watch that isn’t even ticking?”

“No.” The Master licked his lips. He hadn’t made a mistake. It should have worked. It should be ticking away. The Doctor should be lying unconscious on the floor, his mind empty. “Let me see that.” Thrusting out his hand imperatively, he almost snatched it from the Doctor and using both thumbs on the catch, flicked it open.

“Koschei—” The Doctor reached to grab it back, but he was too late. The Master looked up at him in horror as his eyes glazed over and own mind began to drain, swirling into the mechanism. _Nooooo._ Was his last conscious thought.

The Doctor sighed and let the Master slide to the floor, pocket watch falling from his senseless hand to lie open between them. Jerking the cravat from around his neck, he went down on one knee and wrapped it around the watch, closing it gently. Holding it tightly in his fist, he sighed again and walked across the room to the mantle. Pulling out a small key from a chain around his neck, he unlocked a little puzzle box and quickly took it apart. Holding the pocket watch tightly he glanced at himself once in the mirror above the mantle and gently laid the pocket watch inside still wrapped in the scarlet cravat. Another sigh and put the box back together before locking it. Grabbing the key, he let it fall over his neck, not bothering to tuck it back under his shirt.

Walking over to the other sofa, he reached into his own pocket and drew out the plain gold pocket watch, old and worn from much use. The Master hadn’t given it a second glance. It had no engraving or marks of any kind except a few scratches.

Opening it quickly, the Doctor closed his eyes in pleasure as the fog swirled and entered him. Swaying from the intense power, he let himself fall gracefully to the sofa. Having removed all but a bit less one percent of his Time Lord consciousness before he ever went to rescue Martha it was good to be whole again. Stretching in pleasure, he enjoyed the moment before getting to work.

Taking the box outside, the Doctor walked slowly down the brick path to the mailbox with bouncing steps and pulled down the lid. It was a tight fit, but finally the box was inside. Pulling up the flag, he studied the almost invisible keys on the back and pressed the coordinates to his TARDIS. After a moment, he checked inside to make sure it was empty before laying the chain and key in a little puddle and closing the door. Different coordinates and a final check and the Doctor looked back up at the pretty little cottage. He had no place to be right now and decided this was a delightful projection. He’d call Martha and make sure she’d made it safely home and had his coat safely locked away, but that was just routine, he was confident she was fine.

Even in human form, the Master was brilliant and devious, it would be irresponsible to just walk away and leave him locked inside his own TARDIS. How had he cobbled together a working TARDIS anyway? They had many things to discuss in the coming days. It would be smart to transfer this TARDIS into his own. He should do that before the Master regained consciousness.

With a laugh and humming a forgotten song, the Doctor started back up the path. Pausing in the doorway, he grinned down to his ‘Cuz’ still unconscious on the blue Persian carpet before heaving him easily back on the sofa and sitting beside his head.

With a contented sigh, he rolled his head to look at the Master. Koschei. Maybe, just maybe he could be rehabilitated, but he’d have to walk a thin line between compassion and strict disciple with unwavering Rules. The Master had used up a million second chances and this situation was entirely his own making. With a gentle hand, the Doctor patted his cheek, smiling as the Master drooled on the blue velvet. 

“Checkmate.”

~~*~~

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though I love the Master, the good guy has to win -- and that's just not the Master. The Doctor will take good care of him.


End file.
